


Recurrent

by SpaMightWrite



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Bedwetting, Childhood Trauma, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaMightWrite/pseuds/SpaMightWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a problem he thought he grew out of. And now Roman knows about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recurrent

**Author's Note:**

> BECAUSE CLEARLY I DON'T LOVE MYSELF I WROTE THIS
> 
> jesus didn't die for me to do this shit fuck god why

_“There's always a Plan B.”_

_And then Roman was lying face down on the mat, recoiling from a heavy strike on his back._

_How could Triple H have done that from all the way over there?_

_But... he didn't. He had someone else do it._

_His Plan B._

_Seth had a steel chair. He'd picked that up because... And now it was bent... And Roman..._

_“What the f--” He lunged towards Seth before he could even finish his thought. And then he was on the ground, and he couldn't breathe._

~

Dean woke up to a feeling he hadn't had in years. One that brought him straight back to a time he tried to forget, full of memories he would avoid at all costs. When he was a scared child, who could control nothing in his life and had to scrape by, clawing and biting, to survive.

He was in bed, and he was cold and wet.

Immediately he knew what had happened, but refused to believe it for a few minutes. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to wake up – for real this time. Because there was no way this could happen outside of a nightmare.

And then he remembered what he'd dreamed just a few moments ago. It had been a year since that day. A year since one of two people he trusted in his life shattered him. A year since he could cling only to one other person in the entire world.

It all made sense now. 

And he was fully prepared to pick up his sheets and pajamas in a bundle and launder them without shedding a tear. The routine was drilled into his brain.

But he wasn't alone this time.

He was in a hotel room. Sharing a bed with Roman, who was still dead asleep at that point.

His face was burning, his heart racing. He was getting dizzy with panic. The only person in the world he trusted would probably never look at him again without bursting into derisive laughter. He'd never fight with him again out of sheer embarrassment. Dean would be completely alone because he wet his bed, just like he did when he was a child.

Well. He couldn't just let that happen. He couldn't lose Roman, too.

As quietly as he could, he slipped out of bed, cringing at the feeling of his sweatpants clinging to his legs. Only now that he'd gotten up did he realize just how huge the wet spot was. He hadn't even thought about how much water he drank the day previous – he didn't think he had to. A breath sucked in painfully as he padded silently over to the bathroom.

He caught himself in the mirror as he reached for some of the extra towels hanging on the wall. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his cheeks stung pink and splotchy. Had he been crying in his sleep? He ran an anxious hand through his sweat-soaked hair and yanked off his pants. His boxer briefs were just as soaked, but they weren't dripping and heavy like his sweatpants were. He pushed them under the sink with his foot and took the towels off of the hanger.

Dean peeked out from behind the bathroom door to find Roman still slumbering and motionless. As silently as he could muster, he tiptoed back to his side of the bed and got to his knees. He wasn't sure how he would explain the smell, which was faint but still present, but he had to take it one step at a time. He pulled the fitted sheet away from the mattress at the edge of the bed and stuffed a towel underneath it.

He checked the top of the bed again, and found that the towel barely covered half of the wet spot. Cursing to himself, he unfolded another towel and began slipping it underneath the sheet.

And that still didn't take care of the top sheet. Or his pants. Would they dry in time if he just washed them in the sink? He glanced at the clock and heaved a sigh of relief at finding it was just after 3:00 in the morning. At least Roman wouldn't be up for a few more hours.

No sooner did that thought cross his mind that he heard stirring on the other side of the bed, a large body turning over and switching from steady, light breathing to the deep inhales of waking. 

Fuck.

He didn't ask for much in life, but he prayed with all of his being that Roman would roll back over and fall back asleep. Just a few more hours and he could figure out some way to cover this up.

“Dean?”

Double fuck.

“Uh,” Dean began, hoping that Roman wasn't looking his way. “S'late. Go back to sleep, Ro.”

“What're you doin' outta bed—?” His sentence was cut off by the sound of rustling fabric, which stopped short for a confused moment.

He knew. Clearly he knew. No hiding it now. Dean found himself starting to hyperventilate in anticipation of his life falling apart again. And this time there wouldn't be anyone to catch him. He couldn't even form words at that point, waiting with dread for Roman to start laughing at him.

“Dean, did you...?

“Yeah,” he snarled. No use hiding it. He knew. Might as well skip the denial and get it all over with.”I did. That happened.” He stood up and began his stomp back into the bathroom.

“Hey, wait,” Roman pleaded as he got out of bed himself. 

Dean looked back and promptly turned away as he saw that some of the wetness made it onto Roman's shirt. Dean would be lying if he said this would be the first time his piss had accidentally gotten on Roman. They'd spent far too many wild nights out at the bars for that to be true. But this was something else entirely. No booze to blame this on.

He put his head in his hands and fell against the wall, punching it once for good measure.

“Dean, it's all right, man--”

“The hell it is!” Dean shouted in response before Roman could even get another word in. He slid down to the floor, hugging his knees and facing away from him in a futile effort to hide the wet patch on his underwear. “Just fucking laugh at me already, call me disgusting and stupid, come on, just get this shit over with!”

“Wasn't gonna.”

It was then he felt two arms wrap about his shoulders, and a warm chest press against his back. Roman held him close, which Dean hadn't expected. He almost jumped out of his skin at the contact and tried to squirm away, but stopped struggling just seconds later.

“C-Come on,” Dean wavered, biting his lower lip in an effort to keep down the lump in his throat. “Don't, don't fuck with me.”

“I'm not,” he said softly. “You wanna talk about it?”

He didn't. And yet he started doing it anyway.

“This wasn't... I haven't done this since I was a kid, Ro. You know that. You spent more nights with me than anybody else by now. It was hard, livin' where I was livin', I had nightmares a lot. I still have nightmares. But back then... Back then I couldn't control it. And I thought I'd grown up enough to never do it again. And even right after Seth... Right after that, I had nightmares about it and it wasn't a problem. I'd wake up the same. But it's been a year. Why now? Why...?”

His shame was spilling out of his eyes before he could think to stop them. Another embarrassing thing he couldn't control, great. “I'm sorry, Ro.” Dean gulped and sighed. “I get it if you wanna room separate from now on. I mean, it isn't fun to wake up to that, I know.”

But Roman held him all the same, even as his tears dropped onto his forearms. Even tighter than before, in fact.

“Dean, I promise it's okay.” He planted a kiss against the back of his head, which made him blush even redder than before. As weirdly intimate as their friendship was, it hadn't been quite this tender or gentle before. “Look, you ended up way more well-adjusted than most other people would, considering how you grew up.”

“You got really low standards for 'well-adjusted', bro.” He almost laughed, but couldn't when he shifted in his place and felt the dampness between his legs again.

Roman chuckled and went on. “Things happen, I guess the stars just aligned in a way that made it happen again. Anything stressing you out right now? Anything happen that made you remember something bad?”

“He was talking about it,” he realized aloud. “On TV, I mean. He talked about it. So I guess that made me dream about it... But it was different this time, yanno? I used to dream about him hittin' me over and over, but... this time... It was you. I saw you lyin' down hurt.”

“Mm,” he grunted in understanding. “I think that must've done it. You 'n me have been getting into a lot more scrapes together lately. And with Wyatt comin' after me... I get it. Things are gettin' heavy and it's hard to deal with.”

“Just...” Dean sighed. “Been tryin' to deal with it like I always have. Just punch somebody about it. But I dunno if it's workin' anymore.”

He heard a sympathetic noise in his ear and felt Roman letting go of him and standing up. “Got it.” He rested a hand on Dean's shoulder. “It's tough, I know. If you... if you wanna talk to me about anything, I'm here to listen. Doesn't matter what it is.”

“Okay.” Dean sniffled and held onto Roman's hand for a moment before standing up, himself. He still felt like hiding, but his hands were at his sides as he faced his teammate, his friend. He tried to say something more – to thank him. But all he could muster was leaning his face into Roman's shoulder and wrapping his arms around his chest.

His heartbeat started calming as Roman stroked his hair and mumbled to him. “It's okay, Dean. Gonna be just fine. I'm always gonna be here to make sure of that.”

“Okay,” Dean repeated. He broke away from the embrace and glanced back at the soaked bed. “B-But what are we gonna do about--”

“You're gonna go shower,” Roman insisted, taking his hand and leading him into the bathroom. “I'm gonna break out one of those cheap beers we got left and spill it on the bed, call up the front desk and see if we can't get a couple futons to use 'til morning.”

Dean wondered if he ever had to do this before. Then he remembered he had a daughter and blushed again. As if he didn't feel small enough already. But he was being taken care of, and that's what mattered most at that time.

“You got this from here?” Roman glanced down at Dean's soaked underwear and stared into his eyes.

“Y-Yeah,” he nodded, looking at the floor. “I got this. Thanks, man.”

Roman smiled and patted him on the cheek, and then left the room to carry out his cover-up plan.

Dean showered and stayed hidden in the bathroom until he heard the front door to their hotel room shut for the final time, turning the doorknob as soon as he heard Roman put on the deadbolt. He came out to find two futons next to each other on the floor, and Roman laying some fresh sheets onto the both of them.

Without anything further to say about it, Dean retrieved some clean underwear and a new shirt from his luggage and put them on. As Roman settled onto the floor, he heaved a final sigh and joined him.

Dean lay on his back, not quite as comfortable as he was before, but too exhausted to do anything about it. He found some trouble closing his eyes, still trembling a bit from everything that had happened.

And then he felt a hand lace itself into his, and Roman's warmth flowing into him.

He stopped shaking, and fell asleep.


End file.
